


Tagalong

by ClickerClaws



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Eddworld Alternate Universe, Eddworld au, Journey, OC featured, Other, Travel, Violence here and there, and maybe even self-shipping oops, as for ships nothing specific, but I may squeeze some ot3 moments in there, just a little bit though, saloonatics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 03:04:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8384782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClickerClaws/pseuds/ClickerClaws
Summary: After Prince Matthew is finally free from the clutches of Eduardo and his gang, Thompson, Edward and the Prince set off to return to England, which may require tricky transportation on track, hoof, and by ship. Before they could get 15 feet away from the town, however, a lass by the name of Megara just wouldn't let go of her only friends. (which, so she thinks, is all three of them, including one who just so happens to be in jail at the moment) With many rejections, bumps in the road and, not to mention the run ins with the no-good Red Bandits, they're soon going to learn that this is a much longer journey that they ever thought they'd face.





	

The blood-crimson sky wasn't the usual thing around here, and neither was the abnormal, settle atmosphere.

The retreating sun was normal, obviously, but for the entire sky to be that one, haunting color, it just had to be a sign of some sort.

They all knew. Somehow.

The saloon was alive with chatter and music but deep down, they all knew.

They knew he was here.

The small town knew of the Red Bandits and feared them all the same, and it would be lucky to spend a night without one of them bursting in and robing the barkeep or barely missing a shot at a citizen. Redd's followers may have been blood-thirsty ruffians, but a run-in with the man himself; you wouldn't stand a chance.

The entire saloon went shockingly silent as if the impact from the front doors swinging open rippled through the air like the plague. The man at the doors stood as a statue, casting a single, non-patched eye across the frightened faces of the townsfolk, some retreating under the table once the ghostly, silver orb came across them.

All was quiet, despite the leader's cape which flapped in the wind like a whip against a back, making the residents of the town flinch at the sound. He was alone, none of his bandits around him to guard him.

But it was obvious that he needed none of that.

As if no one would have ever thought it'd happen, the man stepped forward into the saloon and broke for a stride, causing gasps and stares. No one spoke as he made for the bar, staring the bartender in the eyes.

They all waited.

"The usual."

Whispers rippled through the saloon right then, immensely quiet, careful to not allow the leader of the most famous bandits in the west to hear.

The barkeep placed Redd's order down on the table as the bandit leader snatched it and took a single swing from it. Slamming it down with a shaking thud that made the building go silent again.

"What business do you have here in Kattlehayes, 'uh Redd?" The barkeep was the first to speak, his voice steady and unafraid.

The bandit looked up slowly at the bartender, shining eye narrowed at him.

"Don't want to answer in front of the townsfolk, do you?"

He took another swing, eyes still on the barkeep.

"Oh, no, let them hear, Barley."

The bandit's famous and familiar accented voice boomed through the saloon, making its customers uneasy. No one dared to leave, or get up at all.

"Very well." Answered Barley, scrubbing the inside of a glass as if he were talking to an average visitor. "I expect you want the news from Lassberg?"

"No. Spitbucket."

The barkeep's eyes darted away from Redd's for a split second, and returned with more uneasiness, causing the bandit's own to narrow in doubt.

"Well. Spit it out, Barley." He boomed. "What's the deal with Matthew, does Eduardo still have him or what?"

The entire saloon crouched lower than they could, hoping the leader wouldn't choose them as a victim to take his anger out on.

Barley put down his glass and placed his palms around the edge of the table, taking a deep breath.

"I'm sorry to say, Redd, but, Spitbucket's got a new hero."

Barley whipped out a sheet of parchment and slammed it down on the table in front of Redd. The bandit squinted down at it with his one good eye, studying the photo of what appeared to be your average young man in a vest beside someone he's only seen in photographs; Prince Matthew, and another man who could be none other than the sherif.

"'Englishman Busts Local Bandits.' Humph. Doesn't look like an Englishman to me." Said Barely. "Says him and the sherif rescued your Prince Charming. One of Eduardo's would have gotten away, too, if it weren't for that _saloon singer._ "

The entire saloon were completely hidden now, expecting the bandit leader to explode on the spot. But he did nothing of the sort. He hardly looked angry. He only picked up his drink, taking in the last few drops, but when he was finished, he slammed his hand down on the table, shattering the glass, the earsplitting noise shaking the air.

He stood up slowly, not looking Barley in the eye.

"A saloon signer, huh?" Was all he said. He began to slowly shake his head. "Interesting. Very interesting indeed."

Without sharing another word with the barkeep, he strode back to the front doors of the saloon, each footstep echoing across the building. No one spoke. Not a word.

"Yup. Says she hit 'im against the head with a banjo. Crazy way to get caught, ain't it?" Barley chuckled, clearly surprised with Redd's calmness.

As his laughter began to echo across the saloon, a few others joined in, actually finding it funny and almost forgetting that a criminal known throughout the entire west was in the room. Soon, the entire saloon was filled with laughter, but the bandit kept quiet and still, until his shoulders actually shook a little, and he was soon chuckling and shaking his head.

"Yes, crazy..."

As soon as he said that, an earsplitting bang made the entire room go silent again, and everyone watched as Barley the barkeep fell to the floor with a crash.

The Red Leader still held the pistol in his hand, pointed to the back of the room and still smoking from the blow. He slowly pulled the gun under his lips and blew the top, causing a whistling sound and the smoke to disappear from the gun tip.

He finally shoved the old gun back into its holder at his side, not taking his eyes away from where Barley once stood, and watched as the piece of newspaper parchment fluttered to the ground.

"Oi, poor guy. Always the bearer of bad news."

Leaving the saloon to do its gaping in horror, he spun around, his cape engulfing his shadow, and pushed open the door.

"Keep the change, Barley old friend."

Then the door slammed closed at the bandit leader was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, don't be too bugged about violence in this fic, it's probably not entirely likely to be that descriptive or serious, and may end up hardly having much of it to even need the warning but, just in case!
> 
> Please R&R, enjoy!


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